


Remind Me

by GleefulMayhem



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Pre-Reichenbach, Reichenbach - Freeform, Suicide Attempt, too many texts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-03
Updated: 2012-03-03
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GleefulMayhem/pseuds/GleefulMayhem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John will be the death of Sherlock, even if it isn't his fault.<br/>Sherlock will be the death of John, and it's all his fault.  </p><p>Alternate summary:<br/>Sometimes things aren't obvious enough until someone does something stupid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Weeks Prior

**Author's Note:**

> Texting styles based on these Tumblr posts:  
> http://doctor-john.tumblr.com/post/17366657721/things-you-need-to-know-there-is-no-dash  
> http://doctor-john.tumblr.com/post/17667871663/meschever-i-was-talking-with-someone-about-the
> 
> Broken into too-short chapters for maximum suspense and author-hatred.

Murder on twenty-first street.  This one is proving difficult to diagnose.  

SH

 

IN THE MIDDLE OF A BATH.  WHAT ARE THE SYMPTOMS?

 

Is this a Hirudo medicinalis leech wound or a hickey?  

S

_(picture attached)_

 

HICKEY.

 

Ah.  Jealous lover, then.  Felt it necessary to rid of the competition.  

S

 

AH.  WHY CAN’T ALL MURDERERS BE MOTIVATED BY PURE BLOOD LUST LIKE IN THE GOOD OLE DAYS?

Yes, remind me to kill myself should I ever become so emotionally impaired.  

S

 

I DON’T THINK WE’LL EVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THAT ONE.  


	2. Day Of

ALICE IS WILLING TO MARRY.  I MAY PROPOSE, IF I HAVE YOUR BLESSING?

 

Do you remember the case three weeks ago?  “A Study in Jealousy”?

S

 

YES, DISTURBING HOW FAR PEOPLE WILL GO, ISN’T IT?

 

Do you keep texts that old?

S

YES, BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND.

 

Goodbye, John.

SH


	3. Intermission

DON’T YOU DARE, SHERLOCK

 

I THOUGHT THAT WAS A JOKE!

 

I’M ON MY WAY

 

PLEASE.  DON’T.

 

THEY SAY YOU’RE IN A COMA, BUT THAT YOU SHOULD RECOVER SOON ENOUGH.  IT’LL NEVER BE SOON ENOUGH.

 

THEY’VE KICKED ME OUT OF YOUR ROOM.  I BLAME MYCROFT.  NOW I CAN ONLY TALK TO YOU THROUGH TEXT.  

 

I MISS YOU.

 

ALICE’S LEFT ME.  SAID I SPEND TOO MUCH TIME TENDING TO YOUR MOULD.  GOOD RIDDANCE.  

 

MYCROFT VISITS.  KEEPS ASKING ME ABOUT YOUR DIARY.  I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD ONE.  I TELL HIM IT’S HIDDEN IN A CAKE.  

 

THEY’VE LET ME BACK IN THE HOSPITAL.  IT HASN’T HELPED MY MOODS MUCH.  

 

WAKE UP.

 

MAYBE IF I KEEP TEXTING YOU, THE RADIATION WILL WAKE YOU UP.  

 

IF I NEED TO CRY ON YOU LIKE IN A BAD ROMANCE, I WILL.

 

I NEED YOU.

 

I’VE TRIED CRYING ON YOU TWICE.  I’M NOT ALLOWED IN YOUR ROOM ANYMORE.  


	4. Three Weeks Later

Sherlock’s phone vibrates in his hand.  Trust his brother to keep his phone charged even when he’s dead to the world.

He reads the texts, all from John, from oldest to newest.  He hurries, hoping a nurse won’t walk by and notice he’s awake now.  

The newest one read:

 

GOODBYE SHERLOCK

 

Barely out of a coma and already on the most important case of his life.  Well, worse could-- No, worse _couldn’t_ happen.  

There was no punctuation.  John was shaking, trying to fix typos so Sherlock wouldn’t notice.  

Sending it to Sherlock meant he was on John’s mind.  The cause?  Most likely.  Probably wanted to see Sherlock and wasn’t allowed in again.  

Imagine, John, driven to suicide from not being able to see his flatmate.  It would be prepost--   _Oh._

Now, how and where?

Sherlock tore the wires and tubes from his body, quickly dressing in clothes an assistant of Mycroft’s must have put under his pillow.  The nausea made it difficult to think, but he didn’t care.  

John was sentimental, overly so.  He would jump as Sherlock had.  Baker’s Street had enough sentiment to it, but wasn’t high enough.  

The text’s typos suggested it was spur of the moment, cause by not being able to see Sherlock.  Up, then.  

He ran to the stairs, not willing to be trapped by an elevator at this time, and ignored the shouts behind him.  A headache was threatening him along with the nausea, but he only stumbled three or four times up the who knows how many stairs to the roof door.  

He was both glad and terrified to find the door already forced open, letting in the orange sunset light in.  John really was much too sentimental.  

“ _JOHN_ _!_ ” he cried, stumbling through the doorway.

The skyline was empty.

“John...”


	5. Deus Ex Machina

“Sherlock, what—“  John’s voice came from the other side.  Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ , of course John would want to see his shadow. 

Sherlock fell messily onto the floor, hands and knees not bothering to catch him. 

“I love you, too, John.”

“I never-  Oh, Sherlock.”  John came to Sherlock’s side, holding his head in his lap. 

“You’re texts.  It was obvious,” Sherlock wheezed through the pain. 

“How charmingly clichéd,” said Mycroft from behind, presumably having dropped from the sky by umbrella. 

A helicopter roared overhead, answering for Sherlock and John’s silence.

“I’ll be taking Sherly to another hospital; we won’t be needing unnecessary questions, now do we?”

John helped the bodyguard help Sherlock into the helicopter.  Sherlock growled when she tried to make him sit away from John. 

“Sherlock—“ John began, having to shout over the whir of the helicopter. 

“John.  While all signs point to…”  He’d never looked so afraid.  “Well, I’d like a confirmation.”

John looked at his hands in his lap before looking around.  Mycroft was talking to his assistant/bodyguard, leaving John and Sherlock alone in the back.  

John didn’t remember his heart beating this fast when he was standing on the ledge, just waiting for a breeze to make the final decision.  

He twisted in his seat, seatbelt digging into his scarred shoulder as his whole body reached for Sherlock, lips leading the way.  

Sherlock looked away, trying to gain some aloofness or at least some sense of self-control.  John pulled on his hair so that they would face each other.  

“Sherlock...” John whispered.  Though he couldn’t hear it over the helicopter, seeing his name on John’s lips sent a shiver down Sherlock’s spine.  

Their lips met, the simple touch as exhilarating as a serial killer and following chase.  John undid both of their seatbelts without letting himself separate from his flatmate.  Maybe it was just the adrenaline talking, but this seemed like the best way to confess to a dangerous man like Sherlock.  Neither could deny it felt excellent, particularly as John’s hand slipped up from Sherlock’s knee towards his dangerously upper thigh and Sherlock’s hands pressed as much of John as close as possible. 

“Ahem.”

Sherlock didn’t care, he heard the helicopter turn off and Mycroft come near, he wouldn’t stop this kiss for anyone. 

Except John, who pulled away, causing Sherlock to glare at his brother.  

“Oh, you’ll thank me later.  You were about to pass out anyway.”

Sherlock ignored the black spots blocking bits of his vision and pulled John close once more.  Who was John to argue against a patient?  He was a doctor after all.


	6. Epilogue

Need peaches of various bruising for experiment.

SH

 

REMIND ME WHY I PUT UP WITH YOUR EXPERIMENTS?  OH, NEVERMIND.  HOW MUCH MILK IS LEFT AFTER YOUR LAST ONE?

 

Enough for tea.  Don’t forget lubricant.  

S

 

PLEASE, SHERLOCK!  I DO NOT NEED TO THINK OF SEX EVERYTIME WE HAVE TEA!

 

You seem to do little else.

S

 

ALRIGHT.  WHAT FLAVOUR?

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't want to bother my Beta. Yell at me in the comments.


End file.
